Lost Connections
by Elphabatizing
Summary: Warrick doesn't show up for work one night. Warrickcentricated Will eventually be a YoBling, but for nonYoBlingers, it's mostly Warrick & Other. Please R&R! As of July, '05...still a WIP, three years and running, just a warning
1. Something's Missing

Author's Note: I started this a few years ago (holy crap... I didn't realize it was so long), and now it's helping me procrastinate. So I've revamped it a little bit... hope you all enjoy, and hope y'all R&R!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the characters.they belong to CBS, and Anthony Zuicker and Co.

* * *

Even though it was in the middle of a desert, Las Vegas had it's extremely warm nights – warm and humid. Tonight was one of those nights, Catherine felt as if she'd hit a brick wall as she stepped out of her truck into the night. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, reminding herself that it was still possible to do so. A warm breeze moved in to wrap around her, oddly forcing her to shiver. As a devotee of science, she wasn't a major supporter of mysticism, but even Catherine couldn't deny the negative presence of a _je ne sais quoi_ in the air.  
  
Nick and Sara were sitting in the break room, both engrossed in their own reading. They hardly noticed their co-worker until she spoke, "Hey guys."  
  
They replied in unison, void of any real emotion, "Hey."  
  
"Why are we all just sitting here? Slow night?"  
  
This time, it was only Nick who gave an answer, "Yup. Good time to finish off paperwork." Without lifting his eyes off his magazine, he used his head to gesture over to a foot-high pile of paper that was sitting near the edge of the table.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'd say so," Catherine grabbed a cup of coffee, a generous stack of files from the pile, and joined the table in silence.  
  
Unbeknownst to anyone in the break room, the next hour passed by. The only sound that filled their ears was that of pen scratching on paper, breathing, and the occasional scrambling for a snack. Grissom walked passed the room, and quickly backtracked. He stood at the doorway and gazed around, confused, looking as if he was searching for a set of lost keys. He finally spoke, startling his team, "Hey guys," heads whipped in his direction, "Where's Warrick?"

The three of them gave dramatic glances at each other. Sara spoke up, "He's not...around? I assumed he was at the trace lab or something. He hasn't been here, at least."

"Maybe he's just sick or something," Nick offered.

"Nick, Warrick wouldn't just not show up. Somebody call him." Grissom gave them all a commanding look.

Nick and Sara immediately turned their heads towards Catherine, who returned their looks with a slightly dumbfounded expression, "Alright, I guess that duty's been assigned to me," she raised an eyebrow, "beats the hell out of doing nothing." She pulled out her cell phone; Grissom headed back to his office while the other two returned their attentions back to their so-called work. "I got his machine at home and his voicemail on his cell," Catherine furrowed her brow.

"Should we be worried enough to go over to his place?"

"Sara, Warrick's a big boy. I'm sure that it's not necessary to execute a raid on his home just because he's an hour late on a slow day," Nick replied.

Grissom suddenly made a reappearance in the room, "Whatever you guys are planning, put it on hold. There's been a DB spotted out on the west end – Nick, I want you and Sara on this." He was expecting a protest from Catherine, but she simply sat in her chair with a mildly nervous expression on her face.

"Yes, boss. See ya, Cat!" Nick and Sara rushed out in excitement.

Catherine was staring off into space when Grissom startled her, "Catherine," she turned abruptly, "I've never seen anyone sleep with their eyes open like that, that's pretty good. I want you to go over to Warrick's – see if he's there." She gave a mild nod, grabbed her purse and headed out without replying a single word.


	2. Grey sweatpants, no makeup, so perfect

The black Jeep Cherokee rounded the desert freeway, its headlights being the only distinguishable feature against the darkness of the night. Warrick sped down the road at speeds that were far from legal, but he was unaware of this, concentrating so hard on the asphalt in front of him that his gaze might have seared a hole in the interstate.  
  
A billion thoughts ran through his mind, mostly memories of a distant trip to the cottage at Lake Tahoe. A time that seemed so far away that the snapshots of that period in his life seemed to be a fantasy that never existed. He had changed a lot since those days; no longer an awkward, lanky teenager, but in ways, still a geek at heart. Only a few people in his life knew what he was like before he became a CSI with the Vegas Crime Lab. In a nutshell, Warrick was the chameleon in the crowd, never really in the spotlight, but always the guy who pulled the curtains on the stage.  
  
His grandmother was hardly considered wealthy, but his friendship with Jo Parker managed to get him an invite up to her family cottage at Tahoe every summer. Warrick smiled to himself, remembering all the great times that he had since they became friends in junior high. Jo was the typical rich princess during school hours, a quality of her's that Warrick could only now come to understand, but the two were as close as best friends could be whenever they were together.

The smile fell off his face as he recalled the call from his grandmother just a few hours ago. It wasn't as if he had kept in touch with the Parkers after college, but just the sheer fact that Jo tried to reach him was enough for Warrick to answer to her beckon.  
  
Hours passed by, and the desert valleys slowly changed into green, lush forestry. Next thing he knew, he was parked in the driveway of the large logged cabin that overlooked the lake. He turned off the car and just sat, preparing himself for the encounter he was about to face. A warm breeze swept through the open windows, brushing his brown skin and provided him with an unspeakable comfort.  
  
Warrick finally made his way up the stone steps and knocked on the door. He heard footsteps from within, and the door opened. Lynn Parker stood in awe of the grown man that was in front of her; she gave a small gasp and pulled him into a hug. Her eyes were rimmed with red, even though there didn't appear to be any moisture on her face. The small body didn't have any more tears to shed, and Warrick didn't remember her ever looking so old.  
  
From a door down the hall, John Parker emerged and walked towards them with a sorrowful look. He shook the younger man's hand, "I'm so glad you came, Warrick. You don't know how much this means to us."  
  
He gave a small smile in return, "Where is she?"  
  
"Upstairs in her old room.She should still be awake. She's been waiting for you."  
  
The room was dimly lit with an old lamp that sat on a white wicker night table. Warrick slowly walked into the room and approached the bed. He had to hold himself back from giving a little gasp when he saw how pale and thin she was. Her eyes were closed, and it was as if she was off in another world, away from the suffering, away from the pain. She weakly opened one eye and smiled, "Hey War, didn't think you'd get here so fast. I hope you didn't drive too maniacally."  
  
"You always had a sense of humour, Joey," He sat down on the bed next to her, and put his hand around hers. A silence formed between the two that couldn't be ignored until Warrick cleared his throat, "You should have called me sooner. I would've liked to be there for you during the chemo."  
  
"Don't get me wrong, War, but we haven't talked more than twice since your sophomore year at Western UNLV. Besides, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, pulling you out of your life just to come and watch me slip away."  
  
"How much time have you got?" He had to ask the inevitable question. A measure of the precious moments he needed to make before it wasn't possible.  
  
"A few weeks. That's why I'm here. I wanted to go in the place that held the best memories of my life, as cheesy as that might be," she yawned a little bit and shifted a little in her bed.  
  
"Hey, sometimes, I like the Velveeta...go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."  
  
"Stay with me for a while?" It was an agreement that didn't need to have words.


	3. Wish you could see the sunrise

A pink and yellow brightness woke him up from a dreamless sleep. For a few moments, Warrick struggled to remember where he was, until he became aware of the frail body his arms were wrapped around. He'd had his share of women, but in all his years of post-prepubescent social interaction, he'd never felt this way: as if he might squeeze the life out of her if he held on even the tiniest bit more.

He gently released his grasp, climbed out of bed without waking her up and went towards the window. Warrick looked out of it and noticed how the morning dew had already subsided. The view out of Jo's room had always reminded him of one spectacular storm their last summer together. Winds raged in unnatural ways, rain pelted the glass so hard that the two teenagers thought that they were going to die by force of water, and he distinctly recalled how Mr. Parker slipped down the small hill leading to the lake, and almost drowned in it. But the next morning, the water was so calm, you could see the mountains perfectly reflected, and Jo's dad was eager to motor up the boat for a fishing trip.

Warrick always reverted back to that incident whenever a case was especially harrowing; somehow, eventually, there would be some kind of settling peace.

"Hey, man. What are you doing, checking yourself out in the reflection? Don't flatter yourself so much," a voice he had forgotten about sounded into his ear, her breath skating on his skin.

He turned around, "Yup. Ya got me there." Warrick softened his tone and moved to kiss Jo on the forehead, "How are you feeling, this fine morning?"

"Actually, not too bad. A little bit tired... but I'm always tired. And eventually, I'll be so tired that I won't wake up," she added a smile, but the sadness was obvious in the rest of her face. Warrick was dumbed by her comment, racing through his thoughts to at least attempt some sort of redeeming reply, but he couldn't find a single one. He simply held her in his arms as a consolation.

Finally, he lightened up the mood, "Are you hungry? Do you want to go for a walk? Do you want to grab some food and go for a walk?"

Jo chuckled, "You sound like you're talking to a dog! But uh, not really, sure, and no, it's okay."

"I think I just confused myself."

"Let's just go for a walk."


End file.
